


"Jeremy's Never Gonna Let Me Live This Down"

by ScripStrel



Series: Michael Mell - Actual Demon [4]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Demon Summoning, Demons, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Squip, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 00:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScripStrel/pseuds/ScripStrel
Summary: “...Shit, Rich is listening.”Michael shrugged. “So?”“So what about your cover?”No big deal, Rich was doped up anyway.But now that he thought about it, there was something up with that Michael kid.The best way to catch a demon is to summon it, right?





	"Jeremy's Never Gonna Let Me Live This Down"

The only thing Rich knew for certain was that he was not a fan of demons. How could he be? Hooked up to a hellish hive mind for two years could really fuck someone up. 

The other thing Rich knew was that something was up with Jeremy’s friend. You know, that one. Anti-Social Headphones Kid. No, he didn’t know for a fact exactly what was up. He hadn’t talked to the guy since the hospital, and he was too doped up on medical drugs to remember anything other than flirting with him (he was  _ super _ high, okay?) and maybe some joke about puberty. 

But there was definitely something going on. 

Sure, the guy had always been a weirdo. He was the stoner kid whose car always smelled like weed and McDonalds who sat at the back of the classroom with a Gameboy and still wore one of those Pokemon Tamagotchi things. You know, one of the ones where it counts your steps to train your Pokemon but it does it so slowly that you never have anything more important than a Zigzagoon in it. Rich hadn’t used one since second grade, and he was pretty positive that no other sane human being had either. 

But lately it had been more than that. Maybe it was just because Rich was spending more time around him, but he’d started noticing some really freaky shit. Like the way his voice would sometimes do this  _ thing. _ All scratchy and garbled and low, and it honestly sounded like there were a whole bunch of people talking, except he hadn’t died from his bizarre throat STD yet, so he couldn’t have just been sick. Or like how sometimes his eyes would just turn black. Like, straight-up black. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Rich could swear it wasn’t just a brown-eyes-looking-black thing, because the whites of his eyes would change too, like he had those bug-eye contacts in. Or the fact that his teeth were sharper than they were supposed to be, and sometimes they looked even sharper than that. He told Rich he wasn’t, in fact, a vampire when he asked, but Rich hadn’t really thought he was a vampire, because they only have a few extra sharp teeth, not an entire mouthful. He also said weird stuff sometimes, muttering in some language Rich didn’t know, but that sounded like it was ripped straight from an exorcism scene. And there was also that one rumor of Dustin Kropp shitting his pants after he had razzed him for slacking off on a group project with Jeremy, and sure, Dustin was a little bitch, but it took a lot to really freak him out, so something must’ve gone down.

Yeah, there was definitely something up with Michael Mell.

“Bro, I hate to freak you out, but I think your boyfriend might be a demon,” Rich said to Jeremy one day.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Jeremy didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Sure, whatever, but there’s no way he’s human,” Rich said. “I mean, look at him.” 

“What about him?”

“What abou—?” Rich was having trouble keeping his jaw off the floor. “You’re hanging out with hellspawn!”

Jeremy shrugged. “And?” 

_ And? _ And Jeremy didn’t  _ care? _ After everything they’d suffered at the hands of—of  _ that _ and he was totally cool fraternizing with the enemy?

Or maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he couldn’t see it. Maybe he thought Rich was overreacting and just trying to bug him. Tease him about his weirdo friend. Well, it wouldn't have been the first time. 

But it didn't help with the fact that Rich needed proof. 

Of course, Jeremy wasn't the only one who didn't care. Chloe didn't care about much of anything, and as much as Jenna would run with any story, she tended to like them to be grounded in what  _ she _ called reality. Christine just gave him an odd look when he brought it up. 

Luckily, Jake was on board with whatever. It did kind of help that he didn't tell Jake exactly  _ what _ his plan was, just that they were hanging out and maybe pulling some cool-ass pranks and investigation. 

"What's with the book, bro?" Jake asked, peering over his shoulder from his spot on the beer-stained love seat. "Never pegged you for the witchy type."

Rich punched him. "It's not witchy," he said. "The lady at the library said they used to use this kind of shit to commune with demons back in the old days when they weren't trying so hard to hide."

Brooke, perched on the arm of the couch, took the book from him and flipped through it, pulling the crusty, old pages apart with her carefully manicured nails. "You can't possibly believe this crap," she said through a mouthful of bubble gum.

No, Rich hadn't invited Brooke. She just overheard him talking to Jake and decided to invite herself, like a self-centered bitch. Rich thought Brooke was cool, really he did, but she was also a total killjoy. 

"If it's crap, why do you care so much?"

Brooke shrugged and tossed the book to the side, examining the candles and salt and chalk Rich had scrounged up and dumped on the coffee table along with the decade-old Playboys. "Just because most of it's crap doesn't mean it all is. You need to be careful. It's not a good idea to invite stuff in."

Rich ground his teeth. "In case you forgot," he said, "we were all possessed already. What more could happen?"

She whirled around to glare at him. The fading sunlight streaming through broken, dusty blinds caught her golden hair, alighting her head in a halo of fury. Even half-shadowed, her face glowed with rage. Holy shit. Maybe Mell wasn't a demon, if mild-mannered, definitely-not-a-demon Brooke could be so fucking terrifying. 

Jake finally broke the fiery silence. "Cool beans!" he said, clapping his hands together. "I'll start drawing our hell hopscotch, cool?"

It shouldn't have been so easy to summon a demon. Even with Brooke's constant nagging and safety-checking and death stares searing into Rich, he had to read the spell book over a dozen times just to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything. It was too  _ easy. _ Sure, they'd wasted a fuck-ton of salt to surround the surprisingly not shitty summoning circle scrawled on the chipping hardwood (art club had really paid off for Jake), and they had both holy water and a fire extinguisher sitting off to the side in case either the demon or the candles got too out of hand. But really. You'd think there'd be more hoops to jump through. 

"Ah, shit," Jake said, reviewing the process yet again because Rich didn't trust his own judgement. 

There we go. "Fuck, what is it?"

"We need to have the right incantation." Jake pointed to the page, where barely legible runes were spelling out a spell. 

"Yeah, we have it," said Rich, waving at the book.

Jake shook his head. "Nah, bro. Look at the footnotes. This spell would just give us whatever demon was closest, or most powerful or whatever."

"So? Headphones is the only demon we know."

Brooke chuckled from where she was seated on the couch, smirking at them over the leaking stuffing. "Says the guy who had one literally living in his head for most of his high school career."

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. Rich’s blood ran cold. "Are you saying we could accidentally summon my old Squip?"

Brooke gave him an appraising look. “I'm saying this kind of stuff tends to have ties to one's own spiritual connections. Why do you think seances are so popular?" She shrugged and snapped her gum. "People like connecting with their own pasts, and the spiritual path already exists. It' easier to reopen an old path than create a new one."

"Shit, okay." Jake said, closing the book. "What do we do, then?"

Rich's heart was beating in his throat. His face felt fuzzy. His knees were turning to jello. Sparks were traveling up his spine, and he straightened up involuntarily. 

"Sorry, guys," he said, noting the way his lisp—which he'd learned to embrace—went away with his slouch. "We don't have to do this."

"Dude, I'm sure there's a way to do it so we don't bring the Squip back," said Jake, wrapping an arm around his stiff shoulders. 

"I don't want to. I don—I  _ can't _ risk that again." Rich was in a haze, barely aware of the words coming out of his mouth. His eyes fuzzed out on the summoning circle, where he could almost make out a smoke-like monster forming between the flickering candle flames. Her form was shadowy and sparking, looking just like the nightmares that still hadn't stopped. 

"For crying out loud," Brooke huffed. She stepped into his line of sight, blocking the apparition and snapping Rich out of his building panic. "I'll do it." Her gaze was steel. Her voice burning white as her eyes. The only light in the room came from the candles, and yet her hair was glowing again. 

"Brooke, no," Jake said. "We don't have to do it."

"Sure I do." And with that, she snatched the book, cracked it open, and began to read. 

The words, for as foreign and twisting as they sounded, were almost like music on Brooke's tongue. She danced over the syllables and never once even paused to decipher the dead script. Rich would’ve been impressed if it weren’t so fucked. He’d just gotten high on cheap candle scents, right?

But okay, maybe he was wrong about the ‘definitely-not-a-demon’ thing. This was some freaky shit. She was glowing and there was an unearthly wind whistling through the room, blowing her hair about in a cloud. The candles went out. 

Coils of darkness drew together in the center of the circle, hardening into a humanoid form, which was quick to state its opinion on the matter.

"Oh, c'mon. Fuck you guys," said Michael Mell. 

"Hi Michael," Brooke said, voice bright and sunny. She snapped the book closed with a puff of dust. 

Rich didn't even realize he and Jake were clinging to each other until Jake removed his vice grip form his arm. 

"What the fuck?" Rich said.

"Bro," Jake's eyes were wide, reflecting the magically relit candles. 

Speaking of eyes, Michael's were dark, concentrated spheres of the shadows that had congealed moments before. "Brooke, you're a traitor," he growled.

She smiled and blew a bubble with her gum. "Love you too."

"How much did they pay you to do this shit?" Michael's teeth glinted in the candlelight. They were razor-sharp. 

"Did you think I was gonna let them fuck it up on their own? Rich was already halfway to bringing old Tic-Tac back."

Michael reached up under his glasses to rub at his eyes. "Jeremy's never gonna let me live this down."

"Jeremy  _ knows?" _ Rich said, finally finding his voice against the insane bullshit going on in his living room. 

He shrunk away at Michael's confused glare. His eyes were  _ super _ freaky. "Uh, duh?"

"He didn't say anything when I told him! He acted like I'd gone batshit."

Michael shrugged. "I don't think he knows how to handle it, to be honest, but yeah, he's known for a while."

"Hey, Mike," Jake said, apparently awestruck.

"Hi Jake?" Michael looked at him quizzically. "Um, actually, can you maybe let me out? I totally just lost bigtime, and I should get back to Jeremy's before he starts worrying." He held up the video game controller in his hand. 

Rich suddenly remembered the salt circle. "Oh, shit, yeah. Sorry, dude."

Once the salt was wiped up, Michael's eyes returned to normal and his teeth dulled. Thank fuck. "See ya, then," he said. "Later, Cupid." He nodded to Brooke, who rolled her eyes. 

"Bye,  Lucy."

"Hey, Ol' Luce wishes he could be as cool as me," said Michael, as he flashed a friendly middle finger and traipsed out the front door.

Brooke shook her head. "I hate him," she said. But she was smiling.

Well, there was his proof. Michael Mell was totally a demon, and Rich was apparently the only person  _ not _ to know, judging by everyone else's reaction when he regaled his awesome tale of how he totally summoned and captured a demon. No, Brooke did  _ not _ do all the work. Shut the fuck up.

But something fucky was definitely up with her too.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written in Rich's POV before, so I hope it turned out alright.  
> I adore feedback, so please feel free to tell me what you think!


End file.
